


It's Life, and Life Only

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Play, Cunnilingus, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Multi, Poe the disaster, Polyamory, Post-TRoS, Very mild d/s, galactic self-fashioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Poe shrugs. "Nothing. I'm good.""You're weird and tense," Finn says. He doesn't sound angry about it, so there's that, at least. "All I said was, 'you're coming over to Rey's tonight, right?' and you got weirder.""Did not!"He totally did.Poe's trying to figure out postwar living. Finn and Rey are, as usual, way ahead of him.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey
Comments: 12
Kudos: 218





	It's Life, and Life Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



> happy birthday to darling Ny ♥ / thanks so much to GP & hegemony for thinking through with me a lot of characterization stuff that shows up here / a portion of the sex scene was previously posted anonymously / title from [Dylan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CJHbfkROow)

Now that the war's over, they're all supposed to start thinking flexibly and accepting ambiguity and _going with the flow_. Poe never would have guessed he'd have quite so much trouble with this. He's a free-thinking guy! Always has been! This quality has gotten him into more than a few scrapes (quarrels, firefights, brigs) over the years. 

So he truly doesn't know what's going on with him lately. 

It doesn't help that Finn's sitting there in their cabin, shirtless and gorgeous, asking him, "What's going on with you, anyway?"

Poe shrugs. "Nothing. I'm good."

"You're weird and tense," Finn says. He doesn't sound angry about it, so there's that, at least. "All I said was, 'you're coming over to Rey's tonight, right?' and you got weirder."

"Did not!" He totally did. He jumped out of bed and started polishing an old helmet just to keep his hands busy. He looks away from Finn's patient, but dubious, expression. "Well. Maybe I did. A little."

"Why?"

"How do you _do_ that?" Poe asks in response.

Finn lifts an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Stay so calm and on-topic."

Snorting softly, Finn rubs his chin, but he can't hide his smile. "Because I am calm? And interested in this topic."

"Oh," Poe says. "Yeah, that makes sense." He tosses away the helmet and wipes his hands on the old trousers he slept in. Now he needs to find something else to do with his hands.

"You, on the other hand," Finn starts, and pushes away from the wall to close the small space between them. He rests his hands on Poe's shoulders and tilts his head a little. "Are not calm and also all over the place."

"The last part is always true," Poe points out. "Actually, both parts are."

Finn's thumbs work around the knobs on Poe's clavicle while his fingers squeeze Poe's ridiculously-tense shoulder muscles. "If you don't want to come over to Rey's with me, just say so."

"I do!" Poe can't look away from Finn's face. "I do and I don't and I don't fucking know." He drops down onto the mattress and tugs at Finn's hand to pull him down, too. "Why is everything so hard now? Shouldn't it be easier and happier? Wasn't that the whole _point_?"

"What's so hard?" Finn asks softly.

Poe, however, is stuck on fixing the absurd wrongness of what he just said. "Okay, maybe not the whole point of war, but a big part of it." 

Finn repeats the question. He's stubborn like that. Usually Poe respects the hell out of him for it, but not when the stubbornness gets turned on him. 

Poe's getting a little too close to things he's not too clear on, nor too sure of. "You know, social commitments, I guess."

"Social commitments? Is that what we're calling it now?" Finn squeezes his hand. "Come to Rey's. It'll be fun. No pressure."

"She'd be happier if it's just you, though," Poe says. That's a good approach, he realizes. No one can argue that Finn and Rey's bond is unique.

"Don't be ridiculous. She loves you."

"Sure, yeah." Poe cracks his neck a couple times. "I'm just not sure she likes me much."

Finn takes his time thinking that over. "That's really important to you, isn't it?"

"Call me shallow, but, yeah! Yeah, it is." Poe sighs. He rubs the crunchy thing in the corner of his eye. "I'm not complaining, all right? I'm just..." His hands move vaguely. "Acknowledging."

Finn nods. "Acknowledging."

For a long time, Rey was pretty much like any other Jedi: remote, legendary, awe-inspiring but not exactly _real_. Then, after Crait, she was very real, and alternately infuriating and inspiring. Poe can handle either, but not both. Now, she's both and far more than either, an actual person and part of his family. He's still getting used to all of this.

"Just something I need to get used to," he says and gives Finn a big smile. "Give me some time? I'm old, adjusting is hard."

Finn's narrowing his eyes as he shakes his head. "You're so full of shit."

He fights to maintain the cocksure grin. "Nah."

"Yeah. You really are. What's really going on?"

"Nothing!" When Finn shakes his head again, Poe adds, "I don't know! Nothing! Everything! Hell if I know!"

"That's remarkably unhelpful."

"I know. Sorry."

In the end, he assures Finn several times that he will, absolutely, join them tonight for food and company. The whole time, and the rest of the morning, Poe is baffled by just _why_ he's feeling so strange about all of this. He loves Finn! He cares a lot about Rey! They're the most important people in his life.

He just can't quite get a bead on what his life is becoming. What shape it's assuming, who he is inside this new landscape, all those big questions he has never been any good at. 

Most of the resistance is slip-sliding around each other's beds. Not that that didn't happen before, especially where Poe was concerned, but there's a new character to the shuffling. Less 'help a buddy get off' and more 'I love everyone on this base, carnally, at high volume'.

Again, this is not something he ever, _ever_ , would have thought he'd have a problem with. He's far from sure what his problem -- if there is one -- even _is_.

Now that the urgency of war has dwindled away, they're taking their feelings more seriously. There's time and room to do that now, where before there was need, possibly satisfaction and consolation, and then more death. More room for all these complicated feelings, however, means more demand for, expectation of, honesty. Poe can do feeling, he's excellent at feelings, but the honesty is proving a lot more difficult than he'd thought. He just doesn't get why there's so much talking about everything. Why not wait until something goes wrong, and _then_ talk? Seems far more efficient.

"What do you even mean?" Finn asks when they meet for midday meal. They eat under one of the old jungle trees to avoid the sudden shower glinting down over the base. "What's wrong with talking?"

"Nothing's wrong with talking," Poe mumbles. He chews and swallows several bites of flatbread and beans before he realizes that Finn's still waiting for a real answer. So he sits up straighter and wipes his mouth before trying again. "I just meant that you can't anticipate every possible form of trouble, so why go looking for it?"

"Talking out feelings and being honest about them is looking for trouble?"

Poe tosses a piece of bread at him. "Yeah, maybe?"

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt," Finn says as he props his chin in his hand. He's got a faraway look in his eyes, all soft and dreamy, the sort of expression that makes Poe's insides twist and clutch with love.

"You're not capable of hurting anyone," Poe says. "Don't worry about that."

"Of course I am," Finn says, a little sharply. "Everyone's capable of hurt, whether you want to or not."

"Yeah, that's true." Poe drums his fingers on his knee. "You're smart about this, just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Idiot." Finn drains the rest of his protein slush into his mouth before continuing. "I just don't want you feeling like you have to do anything you don't want to do."

"Me?" Poe asks. He spreads his arms and raises his voice " _Me._ Do something I don't want to do? Have I _ever_ done that?"

Finn's gaze is soft again and he looks like he's trying, not very hard, to keep from smiling. "No, probably never."

"So there you go. Nothing to worry about." Poe grins at him. "Easy! Now let's cut today short and go fuck around? How's that sound?"

"Poe," Finn says. He gets _so much_ reproach into one syllable. It's probably more fair to say that Poe gives him a lot to reproach. "Come on."

"Got a lot to do today, huh?"

"That, too," Finn replies, so now Poe's confused. Before he can say so, however, Finn stands up. "If you decide not to come to Rey's tonight, which is completely fine, comm me?"

"I'm coming! I told you I would and I am a man of my word."

"Of many words, yes."

"Ha, good one," Poe says. He has to stop smiling. "I'll be there."

"Good," Finn says, then shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I mean, up to you."

"Right."

There are huge things littering the landscape that they're talking around and averting their eyes from. Things that don't even have names, not yet, let alone descriptions. Textures, weights.

Finn leans over and drops a kiss on the crown of Poe's skull. "Love you."

Okay, there are huge things littering the landscape that _Poe_ is avoiding. Finn's plunging right in. 

Blindly, Poe reaches back and grabs Finn's hand for a second. "You, too."

Finn is not part of the unknown landscape. Most of the time, it feels like Poe's known Finn longer than anyone. He's certainly known how he feel about Finn for nearly that long. If anything, Finn _is_ the whole landscape.

It's everything, everyone, else and where they fit together, and how, for how long, that Poe can't figure out and wouldn't know where to start.

*

Right after Exegol, before Rey left on her lightsaber quest, the three of them slept together a couple times. Several times? Probably several. Those were heady days that run together into a bright, joyous blur in his memory. 

So it's not as if he doesn't know what to expect. He has a great time with these two. Whatever Finn gets up to, Poe is sure to enjoy; that's just a rule of life at this point. Together, Finn and Rey occasionally act like fucking is a form of worship or Force-channeling, but that just makes things hotter, so far as Poe's concerned. If you didn't appreciate a chance to see those two naked in each other's arms, you'd have to be blind and celibate and, probably, deceased.

Poe is none of those things. It's just that, now that Rey's back and the base has transformed into a small settlement, things are changing. He'd say that things are "more serious", but that's ridiculous. Nothing's more serious than people dying in war. Things are serious in different, vague but discomfiting ways. Ways that Poe, at least, is still trying to sort through and understand.

Finn, of course, excels at this new seriousness. He can handle a lot of complexity; here he is, keeping house with Poe while also visiting various beds and calling on Rey to practice Force-mysteriousness. He makes it look easy, because for him, it _is_ easy. His heart is large, his soul generous.

*

Through the afternoon shift, Poe comes to the conclusion that he's being ridiculous. That's nothing new, of course, but he needs to get a handle on this particular ridiculousness. If not for himself (he's too far gone into the ridiculous to salvage, let's be honest), then he needs to do this on Finn's account. If they're going to make something out of what they have, and Poe is determined to do that, then he's going to need to step a little ways out of his usual ridiculousness and give this frank honesty thing a try.

He's been working on breaking apart all the salvaged Sith destroyers and reducing them down to reusable parts. The plan and its administration belong to Rose; Poe's working the line with Beaumont and a few others. It's good work that lets him feel like he's getting something accomplished. At the end of each shift, there is a little less Sith tech extant in the world.

But it _is_ tech and unreliable, deeply spooky tech to boot. They wear durasteel aprons and thick gloves for the work, but even so, chemical splashes and sudden fires are the norm rather than surprises. Today, an inconsequential-looking circuit housing decides to explode just as it arrives in front of Beaumont; the flames leap to Poe's station, feeding on the mag-loops he has been painstakingly unwinding. They get the fire under control, but then after extinguishing it and cleaning up the mess, he and Beaumont have to take precautionary detox showers.

He's well over an hour late for Rey's, closer to two.

He comms Finn a few times to let him know, but when Finn doesn't respond, Poe's guilt just flares hotter. He comms Rey on his way over, but again gets no reply. That's probably just as well; he has no clue what he'd say beyond a whole lot of apologizing and insisting that it was an accident.

It's only when he's two-thirds of the way to Rey's that it occurs to him he could easily have stayed back in the shop. He had a good, strong, easily verifiable excuse, after all. He actually stops on the path and looks back the way he came. He _could_ go home, comm another apology, and catch up with Finn tomorrow.

Or he could try not being ridiculous, and keep going forward.

Rey built her little hut fairly far from the rest of them, but the path there is broad and well-maintained. The small, shiny pebbles are pale as chips of bone in the forest shadows. They crunch under his boots.

When he arrives, Rey's place looks dark. He heads around the back, where the path narrows under an arch of juvenile weepers strung with bioluminous vines, to the little deck. There they are on the far side of her firepit, already entwined and half-undressed.

Poe swallows and tries to step back out of sight. 

He can't do this. He can do this when he's been drinking, when the opportunity sneaks up on him, when he's already relaxed and expansive with love. But maybe he can't do this when it's planned, when he's explicitly invited, when Finn expects him to hash out his feelings.

Maybe he's not nearly as brave as he likes to think he is. As he wants others (Finn) to think he is.

"You're late," Rey calls and Poe has to move forward into the light now.

"I'm sorry, I had a fire to put out. Literally, I mean."

"-- are you all right?" she finishes saying. He realizes she isn't chiding him.

"Yeah, yeah, I just caught some bad luck."

Finn's on his feet, pouring Poe some wine and handing it over. While Poe answers Rey, Finn wraps an arm around Poe's waist and rests his cheek against Poe's shoulder. The twists in his hair tickle Poe's neck. He smells like Rey. That's not a bad thing.

Poe drinks down the wine, then tips his cheek against Finn's head. Rey's reclining back on one arm, her torso lean and golden in the low firelight.

"I should let you two get to it..." Poe says, only to hear himself and wince. "I mean. Sorry to interrupt. I should go--"

"Stay." Finn steps back and fixes his gaze on Poe. He sounds husky, even impatient. Authoritative. "Poe. _Stay_."

Breath snags at the back of Poe's throat. "Is that an order?"

"Sure," Finn replies. He lowers his voice even more, looks serious as anything. "General."

He knows that Finn wants him there, and that Rey does, too, but that hasn't been quite enough to _get_ him here. An order, however playful, does the trick. And it is a trick, he knows it is. That doesn't mean it doesn't work.

"Need to catch up," he says, gesturing at his clothes and then at Finn's fire-kissed nakedness. "Just a sec—"

"Stop," Finn says. _That_ voice again.

"Sir."

That gets a quick half-smile from Finn, but then he's inscrutable and all business again. 

Finn strips Poe quickly, his touch impersonal, until Poe's leaning against him to step out of his trousers. Then, Finn cups one buttock and squeezes; as Poe straightens up, Finn strokes Poe's dick three times, breathing shallowly, his gaze burning into Poe.

"Now," Finn says, dropping that touch and keeping his voice low and his eyes intent as he presses on Poe's shoulder. "Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut."

"I can do one or the other," Poe admits. "Not both."

Rey laughs at that, so he grins at her over Finn's shoulder. She's twisted a little at the waist, one leg up and hand drifting over her chest and stomach. He swallows, thinking about her touching herself, how silky she is between her legs, how wet she can get. She shakes her head -- it's not that she can read his mind (probably?), but that he's pretty obvious in his lechery. Poe winks at her and she laughs harder.

Tricks and jokes: whatever it takes, he figures, to get him here and keep him here. 

"Eyes, then," Finn says at last, pushing Poe down to his knees. "How's that sound?"

"Excellent," Poe says. He's already hard, his chest feels big and full of wind, his hands itch. "Really good."

Finn pinches Poe's chin as he drops to a crouch before him. After a moment, during which the fire spits and Rey laughs, Finn leans in and kisses him. There's no warm-up, it's just full-blown and _obscene_ , Finn's mouth wet and his tongue twisting past Poe's soft palate. He bends Poe back a little ways, hand in his hair, to deepen the kiss yet more.

"Oh," Rey says behind them. Her eyes are wide, shining, as she watches. She reaches over, knuckles grazing Poe's cheek, and he tries to wink at her again. He can't, but she laughs anyway.

"Stay," Finn says again. He pulls back, wiping his mouth. Rey's chin digs into his broad shoulder as she nods in agreement.

"Yeah," Poe says. His mouth feels faintly bruised. His dick's throbbing well past hard. Hell, even his nipples are starting to ache with need. "Not going anywhere."

He watches, open-mouthed, with burning eyes, as they twist around each other all over again. Finn's mouth and face tasted tantalizingly like Rey, but now instead of burying himself between her legs, he drops onto her lap. Rey's dipping her hand in a jar of slick as she kisses him, then strokes his ass. She looks at Poe the whole time, and maybe in another time or mood he'd have seen challenge in her eyes, but right now there's only light, the fire shining back between them.

Finn drops his head against her far shoulder. His back flexes as he works against her touch; the perfect swell of his buttocks catches a line of firelight so he looks gilded, animated, nearly molten.

"He can take a lot," Poe says and Finn moans. "Give him everything."

Rey moans, too, kissing Finn's neck, one bicep, as she strokes and teases his hole. Poe watches as she gets him open, as two fingers, then three, finally four stretch and breach him. Finn rises, falls, thrusts and screws backward, lip in his teeth now, eyes wild and unseeing.

Poe presses the heel of his hand against his erection, but there's no resisting this. The touch just makes him more breathless; he presses harder, painfully so, and groans. He can smell both of them now, their sex and sweat, as well as the fire and the green tang of the slick. He swipes sweat off his own face but it's streaming in his eyes and catching in the corners of his lips.

Poe watches as long as he can. They're beautiful together -- _beautiful_ doesn't begin to cover it, frankly, but this is hardly the time to hunt down BB-8 and fire up the thesaurus. For one thing, he's so hard that he probably wouldn't be able to stand, let alone walk. 

"Please," he finally says. Finn is bobbing fast and jerky on Rey's hand; there's Force-light spilling from their mouths and eyes. They might be floating a little. Poe rises on his knees. "Rey?"

He'd like to break apart; he needs to shatter and then he might be in enough pieces to taste and touch and feel every part of them. He's tense enough that this is starting to feel like a real possibility.

"Come here," she tells him and he's lost for several moments, cock throbbing in his hand and brain suddenly absent. She smiles in the midst of all that light. "Please?"

He starts forward on his aching knees before realizing that they're drawing him in as easily as anyone else might tug on a vine. His body is no longer his own; it hasn't been, not since meeting Finn, certainly not since Rey returned from Exegol. Love reconfigures the edges of things and never really lets up. He's here with them, for them, together and infinite. They welcome him as he bumps up against the form they make; he finds Finn's mouth with his own, reaches between them for her clit and his cock. Someone takes hold of Poe's dick, but he can't see, can only thrust and sing and shine with them.

Some day soon, he wants to feel Rey's hand in Finn from the inside, wants to fuck him, too, wants to lace their fingers together and draw the pleasure out from Finn for hours. He tries to say that, tries to tell them, but they are, as always, well ahead of him. Finn sobs into his mouth and fucks Poe's hand until he shoots, until he's crooning and gasping, wrapping an arm around Poe's shoulder and climbing atop him to sink down on Poe's dick. They've done this before with Rey fingering Poe's ass, hand-fucking him as Finn rides him. A wild hope dashes through Poe that they can do that again.

Instead, he's on his back, Finn's slick, tight hole working his dick, when Rey straddles his face. She's facing Finn; Poe thinks they're holding each other by the elbows as they move against and around him. Hell if he knows, given how drunk he is on her scent, the stickiness coating her thighs. She rubs herself, hole to clit, around his open mouth. Her labia seal off his lips. Everything that Finn's pulling out of Poe's cock (half his spine, every nerve he has), Poe is pouring back into Rey, tongue-first. He drinks her down and lets Finn milk him dry, and they keep going. 

He shudders, spent, dizzy though he's lying down. Her thighs are clamped against his skull, so everything he hears is muffled. His own pulse stutters and roars. There's so much light around them, but he can't see a damn thing.

They could ride him well past the point of sanity. He fully expects that someday, they will. He'll be broken and demented, with a lolling tongue and salacious wink, and never happier.

When things slow and start to end -- when she rises off him and Poe rubs his aching jaw ruefully, when Finn shoots dry and bites off a shriek -- the heat and fervor start to get replaced by chilly wind and slack, spent wonder. Poe rolls on his side, curving around Rey's sitting form; her hand plays absently down his spine. Finn curls around Poe, arm folded across his chest.

"Acceptable performance, General?" Poe asks. His voice is raspy, his tongue sour.

"Adequate," Finn replies, laughing, mouth on Poe's ear.

"Hungry," Rey announces and rises, somehow. She waves her hand to retrieve a jersey from the shadows and tugs it on. "Anyone?"

"Always," they say together.

They're going to head back to their cabin after eating; Rey likes to share food and sex, but not her literal bed. Just now, Poe is having a lot of trouble summoning the energy to imagine having the energy to make it back. Maybe they can sleep out here, like they're on a mission.

"A mission," he says aloud, intoning it like a holo-journalist, "of pleasure and love."

"What are you going on about?" Finn laughs as he says that and pinches Poe's stomach for emphasis.

"Pleasure and desire, love and lust," Poe says in the same voice, until he can't speak for laughing. "When infatuation blossoms into obsession and union."

When Rey returns, deep-fried curd and tubers in an enormous bowl under one arm, they are collapsed in helpless laughter and can't begin to explain to her what's so funny.

"Fine, don't tell me," she says, popping a curd cube into her mouth. Chewing, cheek distended, she continues, "you're both ridiculous."

Poe salutes her jauntily.


End file.
